


A God's Pride

by Drakyr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 07:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19313284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakyr/pseuds/Drakyr
Summary: A woman selling pins at a Pride event has an encounter with a strange man in black...This is a birthday gift fic for a friend!





	A God's Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! As said in the summary, this is a little gift for a friend. Said friend is also a big fan of DC's Jonathan Crane/The Scarecrow, hence Loki's choice of alias. ;)

                “Flags, pins, and patches! All proceeds go to the local GLAAD chapter!” called Angela, showing off her vendor box filled with various shades of Pride rainbows to a group of passerbys. Already quite decked out, they answered with various “no thank you”s as they headed into a pizza parlour.

                Well, she tried.

                The Pride parade, though by no means quiet, had slowed down as noon rolled around. Partying and protesting in unison was hungry work. And so, Angela decided to give her voice a rest as she continued walking along the street. She smiled at the sight of a woman buying her girlfriend a double-scoop ice cream cone, and again at the man wearing a shirt reading, “I LOVE MY GAY SON.” Despite warnings of counter-Pride protestors, the event was going well this year.

                To make the day even better, Angela’s trek took her to a hot dog cart that, by some miracle, didn’t have a massive line-up.

                “Good afternoon!” she greeted the vendor. “Can I please get a jumbo hot dog with ketchup and relish? Like, _lots_ of relish.”

                A tall man in a black suit suddenly came to her side. Long, jet black hair flowed over his shoulders. “I’ll have one of the same, please.” Before Angela could tell him to wait his turn, he handed the vendor a bill, crisp as his suit, that covered both of them.

                “Oh…wow, thank you,” said Angela, touched.

                “Think nothing of it. You’re spending this celebration doing charitable work, are you not? I should think you deserve a good deed in turn.”

                Angela beamed at him. As they awaited their food, she noticed his peripheral gaze on her. Caution began raising its alarms.

                “You needn’t worry yourself,” the man said, seeing the tension in her shoulders. He indicated to the Pride button on her shirt. “I’m simply curious: you wear one of the flags. Which one is that?”

                “Oh, this is the lesbian flag,” Angela responded, caution standing down.

                “So you prefer more feminine company, yes? I see.” He nodded.

                Their hot dogs were ready by then, each one drowning in slathered relish. Angela licked her lips. The man took both and handed hers over with courtesy. They stepped away from the cart. He waited until she swallowed her first ravenous bite of hot dog before speaking again.

                “There are a great many Pride flags besides the rainbow one. What is their purpose?” He began eating his own hot dog as he listened.

                “Well, um,” Angela began, not expecting to explain the complexities of the development of the LGBT spectrum. “The rainbow one is like an umbrella flag. Anyone can use it. Um…as for the others, some people like to be a bit more specific, I guess. Some identities have come to light more recently, and having a separate flag is…uh, I guess a way of pushing for their acceptance.” Angela worried that her explanation was lacking, though she couldn’t help but giggle as some relish stuck to the man’s cheek. He immediately wiped it away with a green handkerchief.

                “You really _do_ like your relish,” said the man as he put the handkerchief away.

Angela smiled sheepishly.

                “It’s fine, I do enjoy the sweet-and-sour taste as well,” the man replied. Now clean, he returned to the subject at hand. “I think I understand well enough – different companies under the banner of a single army. Some are archers, some are cavalry, so on and so forth. All have their purpose, all fight the same battles together.”

                “Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds about right,” said Angela with a nod. “This your first Pride?”

                “Yes. Where I’m from, there’s no such acceptance for those outside of society’s roles. A man is a man, and must act accordingly, and the same is said for women. Those who deviate are shunned.”

                “Things are that bad for the gay community in England, huh?”

                The man’s lips quirked into a grin for just a moment. “I’m afraid so.”

                “Well, things aren’t perfect here either, but we’re trying to make it better.”

                “That is admirable of you, miss..?”

                “Angela.”

                “Miss Angela. You can call me Mr. Crane. A pleasure.”

                “Likewise. Mr. Crane, like from Sleepy Hollow?”

                “You’re well-read, I see. I like you already.” Mr. Crane gestured down the street with one arm. “Please, let us walk together. I would not keep you from your work.”

                And so they walked, and they ate. Seeing a man as dignified as Mr. Crane _very_ much enjoying street vendor food brought a smirk to Angela’s face -

                As did the passerby wearing nothing but a rainbow banana hammock, his skin covered in glitter. Mr. Crane looked on in shock, but not judgement. Angela caught him mutter, “by the Norns,” under his breath. At least, that’s what it sounded like. That’s a new one.

                “Yeah, that’s par for the course at Pride,” said Angela matter of factly.

                “I’ll have to come better prepared next year.”

                “In a banana hammock and glitter?”

                “Not _quite_ that prepared – is _that_ what that garment is called?”

                Angela snickered and nodded. Mr. Crane had a laugh as well.

                Mr. Crane cleared his throat before continuing. “No, I prefer subtlety. A button would suffice, as you’re using.”

                “Well then, it’s time you pick one,” Angela stated, gesturing to her goods. “Here, I have a print-out of different Pride flags to make things easier.”

                “That would be much appreciated,” said Mr. Crane as he took the print-out.

                As he looked it over, they both heard the crowd booing, and a voice using a megaphone. Angela slumped. “Looks like the warnings were true after all.”

                “What warnings?”

                Angela nodded toward the commotion. “The anti-gay crowd is here to rain on our parade.”

                They stopped as they reached a group of people toting signs bearing violent slurs and slogans. Their leader stood atop a box with a megaphone, giving voice to much of what the signs said, and more.

                “I was under the impression that they are meant to espouse love, peace, and tolerance,” said Mr. Crane, watching the demonstration with furrowed brows.

                “They didn’t get the memo,” replied Angela. “I’m Christian myself. My church would never condone this hate speech. God is love.”

                Mr. Crane shook his head. “No, this won’t do at all.” He leaned towards Angela. “Keep a secret for me, won’t you?”

                “Um…all right?”

                Mr. Crane turned his eyes back to the bigots and crossed his arms. One of his hands twisted along the way, but to anyone but Angela, the gesture would’ve gone unnoticed.

                The leading bigot opened his mouth again, and the “HEE-HAW” of a donkey bleated through the megaphone. The crowd fell into silence.

                The bigot tried again. Another donkey bleat. He tried again, and again, to no avail.

                A few shocked chuckles broke out through the on-lookers.

                A voice called out from somewhere in the crowd; Angela couldn’t put a finger on the source. “If you should act like an ass, then you should sound like one too!”

                The chuckling turned into roars of laughter. The hate group’s leader stepped down, and the rest of them ushered him away, leaving nothing of their prejudice behind save for the box.

                Mr. Crane turned back to Angela, looking rather pleased with himself. “I think I’ll take these two,” he said picking up two buttons.

                “Uh – right.” Angela shook herself back to reality, calming both her shock and her laughter. “So, genderfluid and pansexual it is, then?”

                “Yes. Here you are,” responded Mr. Crane, handing over his due change and the flag print-out. “Do keep up the fight, Miss Angela. Even if I cannot live in a world of acceptance and peace, I hope you will one day. Always remember your strength. What makes you unique, none can take from you.”

                “Thanks, Mr. Crane. I hope the same for you too – “

                Angela looked up from putting the money away, only to find Mr. Crane had disappeared. She would’ve looked harder, but a crowd suddenly swamped her, looking to buy more Pride gear in the wake of quelling the dissenters. She didn’t see him again, not even a glimpse in the crowd as the day went on. And yet something of him lingered. That night, in the brief moment between being awake and asleep, she wondered if she’d met an angel, though she forgot the thought by morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you're wondering, the unknown voice making the ass comment was also Loki's doing.


End file.
